


Wilting

by fineinthemorning



Series: Bouquet of Our Broken Notes [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dolls, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2019-07-25 00:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineinthemorning/pseuds/fineinthemorning
Summary: In the backstreets of Shinjuku, Akira stumbles upon a mysterious shop that sells dolls that look so incredibly human and lifelike that it's hard to believe that they are in fact, merely plants.





	1. Till

**Author's Note:**

> Today's Prompt: Dummies, Dolls, and Mannequins  
> I had been looking for [an excuse to do a crossover for this series for some time.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dolls_\(1995_manga\))

“What about this one?” Akira found himself peering behind a red curtain, pulling it aside, drawn to the figure that sat, unmoving, behind it. Grand chandeliers hung from the ceiling and cast brilliantly glittering prisms across the pale faces of the life-sized living dolls on display. The light didn't reach behind the curtain, however, so Akira struggled to see the doll behind it. He noticed its eyes first-- dull and red as coagulated blood. Next, the smooth perfection of its skin caught him by surprise. It held the features of a male, which appeared to be rare among plant dolls considering that, at least in this shop, he'd seen only two or three others. Its light brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and it wore clothing that reminded Akira of gothic visual-k bands or French princes. Was it really wearing shoulder pads? With tassels? On any other living creature, it would appear absurd, but the uniform the doll wore appeared to be custom fit for the doll itself.

“That one?" the shopkeeper, a man in his thirties with an unending smile and a calm temperament, appeared beside him, pen to his mouth as he reflected thoughtfully. As his eyes scanned over the plant doll before them, he cautioned his customer, "Surely you aren’t interested in that one? I'm afraid it was abused by its previous owner; it took months just to turn its health around so that it would survive." The shopkeeper shrugged, a disregard of the effects his words may have had on the doll itself, "I’m not sure it will ever be completely healthy again.”

Akira reached out to it, and it blinked back at him, curious, but still unmoving. “That’s . . . ok,” he replied slowly, entranced by the doll he had, just seconds before, been entirely unaware of but could now think of nothing else.

“I’m afraid I can’t just sell it to anyone. It requires rather particular care. Should it be abused again, I’m not sure it will survive.” The shopkeeper stepped back and regarded Akira thoughtfully behind wide, round glasses. "You should have a look around the whole store. Typically, a plant doll chooses its owner . . . "

“I won’t abuse him," Akira insisted, his eyes never leaving the doll with blood-red eyes, "You have my word.”

“I’ll tell you what. If you can get it to smile, I’ll allow you to purchase it and take it home. You see, it has never smiled for anyone, so if it did, that would mean it has chosen you and thinks it would be compatible with you."

"Compatible?" Until just ten minutes ago, plant dolls were but a myth to Akira. Though he had heard of them, he'd never seen one, and owners were known to be quite secretive, typically, so finding even evidence of the existence of plant dolls would require anyone commit to some extensive research. Akira never thought of them, even to the point of curiosity, but after stumbling upon the shop stumbling through the alleyways of Shinjuku, he wouldn't dare leave without one. To hear that taking one home would be entirely up to the dolls themselves brought a sort of dread. He couldn't leave this shop without it, but what could he do to make it smile? How could he set himself above the others who visited this same shop?

“That’s right,” the shopkeeper replied after a beat. The blonde man, knowing full well that his customer's best chances with the doll were when both he and the doll were alone, shot green eyes from Akira to the doll and back again before smiling and turning away.

“I just have to get him to smile?” Akira confirmed aloud, to which the shopkeeper hummed a safe distance away. Akira, moving slowly, placed his right hand over the doll's left, gloved hand. Though it flinched, it did not pull away, and its eyes remained wide and observant. Akira didn't believe in fate or witchcraft, not in any sort of religion or even soul, but looking into the doll's eyes, he questioned his own disbelief. Something so beautiful couldn't be human. The doll appeared too pure, too extraordinary to be anything less than perfect. " . . . If you will have me, I want to bring you home to live with me." His fingers gently curled around the doll's left hand.

The plant doll watched him cautiously; he didn't appear to be afraid per-se, but he didn't let his eyes leave Akira for a second.

Akira stood a little straighter, "I promise that I'll be kind to you and that I'll take care of you."

The plant doll listened attentively but made no indication that it understood the meaning of the other's words.

"And, _I'll love you_ ," Akira whispered definitively, and, slowly, carefully brought the doll's fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to the gloved hand gently.

The doll didn't pull away, nor did it voice disgust at the contact, and, when Akira looked up into its eyes, he watched as the smooth lips of the doll spread in a gentle smile.

He smiled back because in the doll's smile, he saw something he had been searching for. He placed the doll's hand back in its lap.

"Oh wow," the shopkeeper appeared again, "You did it." His eyes went wide as he leaned in front of the doll, centimeters from its face, "My, my! You made it smile!"

"You keep saying 'it'. What is his name?" Akira asked in a breath.

The spectacled shopkeeper righted himself and pushed his glasses up his nose. "That's entirely up to you," he smiled.

"But he had a previous owner right? You wouldn't rename a cat or a dog if you're the second owner; they're used to hearing their name. What was his?" Akira wished he could reach out to touch the doll again. His chest ached in a manner that he could liken only to his first love. His love then had never been outshined before, but faced with the opportunity to feel whole again only left him desperate and impatient to begin his life again.

"Goro, and, I'll remind you, plant dolls are not like cats or dogs. They are unlike _anything_ else, as a matter-of-fact," the shopkeeper smiled, sly and new.

Except, he was wrong. Plant dolls were _like_ something else: _human_. They appeared so very, _very_ human.

Akira studied the doll, Goro, only a moment more before speaking softly, "Goro, would you accept me as yours?"

Goro's head fell forward slightly, and he rose his head back up with the same smile in place.

"Oh, that's sweet," the shopkeeper waved it off and flipped a few pages of his clipboard over before speaking again with a tone of a firm, but fair, businessman, "Now then, the payment for the doll, the milk, the biscuits, the parasol, which is required since this particular doll may never stay more than a half hour in direct sunlight,  the shampoo, the soap, the pajamas . . . "


	2. Watch

“This is my home, or well, it’s our home now. Take off your shoes.”

Instead, Goro stood in the genkan, his face blank as his eyes scanned what could be seen of his new living quarters from where he was standing.

Akira hadn’t expected the plant doll not know at least this much, but instead of chastising him, he showed him how by removing his own shoe, “Like this. Just do as I do.”

Goro stared at him a moment, his expression blank, before removing his boots and setting them beside a pair of slippers.

Akira took his hand in his next and began giving him a tour of the house, taking the time to explain everything from the shower to the television.

And, Goro does copy him just as he asked. In fact, after the first night of imitating Akira, he appeared to have learned a great deal. Akira showed him how to change into his pajamas, how to brush his teeth, how to comb his hair properly (Goro just kept pulling the comb until he ripped out his own hair.) He taught him about the basic items in each room of his apartment: the stove and fridge, the television, the computer, the toilet, the shower, the bath, the futon. All the while, Akechi nodded emotionless every time Akira turned to him and asked, “Do you understand?”

“I only have space for my bed. I guess we should move the table and put down another futon for you to sleep on, but it would be short. You’re taller than me and even I wouldn’t fit in that space. I guess for tonight, you’ll have to sleep here?” Akira moved a blanket under the table and beside the futon anyway. Goro could sleep in his bed tonight.

Goro sat down, cross-legged, in his bed, his cream colored pajamas that resembled long bloomers and ruffle-cuffed blouse, made him look smaller as he pulled his knees in close to his chest. It bothered Akira, the expression that never left the doll’s face. What would it take to make Goro smile again?

“You do sleep, don’t you?”

The plant doll nodded.

“I never asked the shop keeper, but can you learn speech?”

Goro tilted his head to the side eyes traveling elsewhere as though he were contemplating the question which told Akira that he must have at least understood the meaning. 

But what if he couldn’t learn speech? What if he felt guilty for being unable to respond to Akira every time he spoke to him?

“I’m sorry. It’s okay if you can’t. It’s not necessary.”

The plant doll straightened up, lips pursed a moment before his expression turned neutral once more.

“I’m happy you’re here, anyway, whether you can speak or not.”

The doll nodded, lips spreading just as he turned to look away.

“Wha--”

Seconds later, the doll looked back at him, curious, and with no hint of a smile.

Akira’s eyes went wide with betrayal, “Did you just look away when you smiled?”

The plant doll mirrored his expression.

“Oh, no, I’m not upset, I just--” he smiled quickly, trying to brush off the accusation, “Sorry, I’m not upset. Everything’s okay.”

The doll didn’t mimic his nervous grin, but did go expressionless once more, nodding his head once.

“Oh, we can do ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions!” Akira sat up in his blanket while the doll watched him from the futon.

“Ok, right, if an ambulance is on its way to save someone, and it runs someone over in the process, does it stop to help them?”

The doll tilted his head once more only for Akira to go red, waving his arms in embarrassment, :Sorry, I panicked! let me try again.” He thought for a moment while Goro watched him, red eyes blinking away with exhaustion.

“Do you like music?”

Goro nodded.

“Me, too,” he smiled. “I listen to folk mostly. Do you like folk?”

He nodded again.

“Wow,” Akira blushed lightly, “that’s nice that we like the same music.”

“I can’t ask you about food, but, oh, do you watch movies?”

The doll’s head moved up and down.

Akira’s grin only grew, “That’s great. I end up watching them alone. Maybe we could go to the cinema together?”

The plant doll nodded again.

“I’d really like that,” Akira laid back down, turning on his side to watch Goro do the same. It was so nice to have someone he could talk to and share things with and make plans with. He didn’t think it would be this easy with a plant doll but- wait.

“Goro, do like pizza?”

Goro nodded.

Akira frowned. 

The shop keeper had said that Goro wasn’t allowed to eat anything other than the biscuits he’d purchased. So, if Goro was saying he liked pizza, either his previous owner had fed it to him or . . . he was answering ‘yes’ to everything he asked.

“Do you like vintage bookstores?”

He nodded. 

“Do you think Featherman R was the best Featherman series?”

He nodded.

“Can you stand on your head for eight hours at a time?”

He nodded.

“Do you want to run away and join the circus?”

He nodded.

“Do you wish you were human?”

He nodded.

Akira sighed, his hands gripping the blanket as everything began to make sense. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, released it, and opened his eyes once more to look at the treasure he’d thought he’d found, “I thought you understood earlier. And back at the shop . . . but you didn’t. You don’t understand anything I’m saying, do you?”

He nodded.

Akira sighed again, but this time, he turned out the light and whispered a quiet good night, closing his eyes to the reality of the debt he’d just put himself in over something he thought was going to fill the gaping void in his life.

 

The rest of the work week went by uneventfully. He’d gotten home late every night, so when he’d come home, the light would be off, and Goro would be asleep. It wasn’t so bad, he’d thought the fourth night. Goro was still beautiful, and he was still very much alive. Even if he didn’t seem to understand speech, he sort of understood emotions. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have made that connection they had upon their first meeting, right? It was calming, even, just to watch Goro sleep. Despite looking human, he still felt other-worldly, and he still had this presence that demanded Akira’s rapt attention. 

Akira brushed the bangs from his eyes, and the doll’s chest continued to rise and fall. He wondered what separated them biologically. He’d yet to see Goro completely naked; the shopkeeper said he needed a bath once a week as needed. Still, even beyond that, was there something different about them in terms of their genetic makeup? The doll really only needed that special milk and those shop-brand biscuits to survive? And what about it’s brain? What were the limits to what it could and couldn’t learn? Did it learn anything previously from the owner before him? It looked like it just sat in the shop unmoving. What did it do all day when he was gone?

Akira stared down at the doll, a pang of pity sweeping through him. This beautiful doll had been discarded before, but why? What had the owner before him expected to get from owning him?

And what’s more, what did Akira expect?

 

It wasn’t until the fifth night, the night Akira was able to come home early, that he realized that he’d misunderstood everything thus far, for when he opened the door, he heard a voice from within his apartment. It sounded honeyed but methodical. Sweet, but serious. 

“This is the fridge where I keep my food and your milk,” the voice said. “You shouldn’t need it for anything, but if you ever see it open, please be sure to close it so that the food stays cold inside. Make sense?”

Akira froze, deciding to remain in the genkan as the voice continued.

“And this is the stove.” 

He heard it click on. 

“It’s where I’ll cook for myself or heat up your milk. Never, ever touch this flame. It will hurt you. Understand?”

He heard the stove turn off.

“Maybe one day I can teach you how to cook and we can make food together, though, that would be kind of sad, huh, because you can’t eat it?”

There was a pause, and then, “But, I can teach you anyway, if it’s something you want to learn. It might be nice to have a hobby.”

Akira felt his mouth go dry. 

Everything he’d said. Every word. 

Goro remembered all of it.

Akira steeled himself, prepared for anything, and walked in to the main room in the apartment.

“This is the TV remote which turns on the--” Goro stopped, set the remote back where it usually lay on top of the table, and turned around, still in his pajamas.

“You _ can _ speak.”

Goro stared back at him, his face expressionless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone commented, and it warmed my heart, so I tried harder~!  
> //also I was super shocked by the comments from the first chapter cause this is not a crossover with a happy series guys like please do not go into this expecting sweet fluff; it will disappoint; I'm sorry OTL


	3. Learn

Minutes later they were seated on the floor at the table in the middle of Akira’s modest apartment. Akira had warmed up milk for Goro and he sat down across from him with his own cup of tea. He tried to recall what had happened that night and he began to replay the memories in his mind of the short mornings they’d spent together thus far.

He knew two things to be true about the plant doll he’d purchased six days ago:

 

Goro did not mimic _everything_ he did, and,

 

Goro was never troublesome.

 

In a word, Goro could be called passive? Or no, perhaps that wasn’t quite right. Obedient, maybe?

 

The doll seated in front of him sat on his feet in the formal, Japanese style as he sipped his milk, setting it down soundlessly as his red eyes stared back at Akira. He was watching him, studying him even, but, to be fair, Akira was doing the exact same thing.

He cleared his throat, unsure of why he was so nervous to have a conversation with the doll, when the night before he’d been so determined, “Goro, I want you to . . . be happy here. I want you to feel like this is your new home.”

Goro blinked, moving his hands from around his mug to place them folded together in his lap.

“Say something,” Akira prodded, breaking the silence.

“Something,” the doll replied automatically.

Akira shivered. Had the tension between them not been so thick, he would have laughed at the absurdity. But, this must have been it. This had to be the key.

“Would you like to finish your milk?”

Goro waited, and when Akira let the silence settle, he nodded.

Were all plant dolls like this? It very nearly made him feel guilty but he couldn’t figure out if it was because Goro looked human or because he wanted to treat him as such.

Akira smiled, hoping he was wrong and that the doll would proceed with finishing his drink, but the doll did not move, and in fact remained eerily still enough to prod Akira to try something else. “You could finish your milk if you liked.”

Goro nodded once, and Akira waited again, but still, the doll did not move to finish its meal.

Akira drank some of his own tea, just as a last ditch effort to prove that he was wrong, but still, the plant doll did not move.

“Finish your milk.”

Akira watched, mildly horrified, as Goro picked up the mug and vigorously swallowed down the rest of the milk.

What the shopkeeper had said that night that Goro came into his life suddenly made sense.

_‘Should it be abused again, I’m not sure it will survive.’_

How easy would it be to abuse something completely obedient to you?

“Goro, tell me my name.”

“Kurusu Akira-san.”

Akira put a hand over his mouth only to immediately attempt to hide his shock by rubbing his palm across his face as though he were wiping something away. He’d really never heard a voice like Goro’s, and of course, this was the first time the doll had said his name.

‘ _Unlike anything else_ ’ was right. Goro was speaking Japanese, but his voice was more a feeling than a sound which only made Akira all the more confused with the notion. This plant doll was having a deeper effect on him than he thought if he was seeing it as something near ethereal. He took a long sip of tea, feeling the doll’s eyes on him as he did so, and sat the mug back down. 

“You do understand me then, don’t you?”

The doll nodded, and Akira dramatically let his head fall to the table with a groan. He melted into the smooth particle board surface. He couldn’t put a finger on why this bothered him so much. After all, Goro wasn’t a dog or a cat, per-se, no, but he wasn’t human, either. And, though he wasn’t a common house plant, his survival was completely dependent upon Akira as any other plant or pet would be. The implications of having absolute control over something didn’t sit right with him despite that. Plants couldn’t talk. Dogs and cats, at times, got into mischief or misbehaved. 

But this plant doll?

Or, potentially, all plant dolls?

“From now on,” he spoke into the table, “respond to me verbally if you can answer a question.”

When silence followed, he sat up again.

“Do you understand the words I’m saying?” he got straight to the point.

“Yes.”

Akira did his best to be mindful of his own wording, “Do you understand everything I say?”

“No.”

“Do you know the word ‘obey’?”

“Yes.”

“‘Command’?”

“Yes.”

“‘Order’?”

“Yes.”

“‘Demand’?”

“Yes.”

Akira bit his bottom lip, his eyes serious as he studied the doll, “Did your previous owner use any or all of these words when speaking to you?”

The plant doll mimicked the same expression as the night before, tilting his head to the side in either confusion or contemplation. His hair looked so soft from here, but Akira noticed that it stuck together somewhat. Perhaps it would be time for a bath soon.

“The shopkeeper said you were abused. Did your previous owner make you do things?”

Goro’s face slowly emptied of emotion as he stared at his own mug on the table.

“Will you obey me no matter what I say? Is that how your previous owner hurt you? What can you t--”

The doll’s reaction was small. Not a bone in his body moved, but his eyes grew wide suddenly despite the fact that they never left the mug. 

Goro had disappeared. 

“Are you okay, Goro?”

He wasn’t here at all.

“I want you to share your feelings with me,” Akira put a hand on the doll’s wrist, but it did not react, “I want you to tell me how you’re feeling.”

The doll did not even blink.

Akira bit the bullet.

“Tell me how you feel.”

“ _Scared._ ”

 

They went to bed shortly after that. Akira realized he had pushed Goro too far. Whatever had been done to him in the past had been more than traumatizing if the mere memory paralyzed the plant doll in fear.

This would be the sixth night in a row to sleep on the floor with only a blanket; it really was starting to take a toll on his back. In the darkness, now knowing that Goro could hear him and mostly understand him, he began to talk, “We’ll go shopping tomorrow. You can wear my clothes out, and we’ll find you some new ones. I’ll need to figure out the futon situation, too, and maybe we can go to the park.”

He didn’t expect the doll to respond, but speaking one-sidedly like this felt strange, though, to be fair, speaking this much at all felt strange. Akira did have friends, of course, and he did enjoy the company of a few of his co-workers, but he’d always been praised as a good listener since he’d been very young. Dependable. Mysterious, even. One friend had gone so far as to describe him as the ‘strong-silent’ type, which he still didn’t agree with. He’d lived alone since university, and though he’d dated here and there, he hadn’t had anyone to . . . focus on . . . in years.

‘ _Typically, a plant doll chooses its owner . . ._ ’

Akira had little to offer Goro at all. He was not well-off, he had no particular talents, and his hobbies were all uninteresting. He was rather plain in the grand scheme of things. 

“Goro, . . . . why did you choose me?”

The still silence between them carried him fitfully into a restless sleep.


	4. plant I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, this most amazing artist [drew this most amazing thing](https://twitter.com/akeshukita/status/1151429654646968320?s=19)! So fluff! So shojo! Much nostalgia! Wow!

The next morning, Akira woke up to see Goro waiting patiently at the table. He’d slept in, and, after having a schedule the previous five mornings of being served breakfast at six am, he couldn’t blame Goro for being ready and waiting at seven. 

Had he been waiting there an hour?

When Akira sat up and stretched, the doll turned his head to look at him curiously, patient and unmoving from his place at the table.

“Good morning,” he tried smiling warmly only to watch the doll look away shyly. Somehow, it made him smile wider. “I’ll make breakfast for you, but I’m going to eat out, I think.” He began to busy himself with folding up his blanket and, for the time being, Goro’s futon. “I think it’d be nice to get you some clothes and things today. I was thinking Kichijoji since Inokashira is right there. Have you been shopping before?”

“Yes?” Goro sounded unsure.

“Oh, do you remember where? If you have a place you like, we can go there.” He moved to the kitchen to warm Goro’s milk, setting a smaller pot on the stove and turning on the heat.

“Ginza.”

Akira felt his face heat up, gladly leaving his back to him. Ginza? Of course. Plant dolls were expensive. It made sense that they’d be more accessible to the elite. Would Goro be disappointed?

He stirred the milk to keep it from burning, “Ah, sorry Goro,” he tried to laugh it off, “I can’t afford Ginza, but hopefully you’ll enjoy where we go and find something there.”

He heard no response, but that was normal, so he kept talking, “So, we’ll go to Kichijoji. In the meantime, we can see if you fit into my clothes, okay? Your . . . uh . . . formal wear may stand out a bit too much.” He set the heated milk out in front of the waiting doll and plated the biscuits for his breakfast. Three for now and four for dinner. Easy enough.

As soon as he set them down on the table, Goro busied himself with eating like a puppy that had been waiting seconds but acted as though it’d been days. It was cute if not a little worrying.

He changed quickly and set out clothes for Goro. As he brushed his teeth, he considered the items he’d not bought from the shop, not because they hadn’t been offered, but because they’d never been mentioned. The doll needed a parasol but not a toothbrush? A set of clothing to sleep in but nothing else? Was he expected to wear the prince outfit always? And though he had his own sort of branded soap and shampoo, was it so bad if Akira used normal ones to wash him? Or what about lotion? Or sunblock? Goro needed a parasol but not sunblock?

When he came back out, the dishes had been set in the sink and Goro was seated on the tatami floor eyeing the clothing.

“You can put them on, Goro. It’s okay.” 

The doll didn’t move. Akira sighed, his lips in a line. This had become a problem quite quickly. He wasn’t sure if it was because Goro didn’t know what he was saying or because had to be told. And even then, did he have to be told because that’s what plant dolls were like or because he didn’t want to do it? If he commanded that Goro put his clothes on, he would find out quickly whether or not he understood, but despite that, it felt so conflicting.

That must have been what his past abuser had done to him. That person must have commanded him to do things. He couldn’t imagine what, and truthfully, he didn’t want to dwell on hypotheticals, but it made it too easy. Was it just Goro who was so obedient or were all plant dolls this way?

“Take off your pajamas and put on these clothes, so we can leave.”

Goro nodded and did as he was told. 

So he understood Akira, but he had to be told? He had to be told for what reason, though?

Akira turned away and went to packing his bag for the day.

 

The walk to the station nearby had already proven difficult. Matching the over the top extravagance of the shop, the parasol he’d purchased for Goro was covered in white ruffles and red ribbons. If it wasn’t enough that Goro was gorgeous enough on his own to distract the harmless passersby, it was now that he was holding a bright white parasol over his head that made him look completely out of place. 

The night Goro had come home with him, Akira had taken his hand, but now, Akira second-guessed the urge to do so. After-all, even without doing so, Goro followed loyally beside him, so it wasn’t as if it were  . . . needed.

When they reached the station, Akira was struck with an epiphany. There were no rules in society that addressed plant dolls. If anything, they were a myth, and, just as Akira had six days ago, most people believed them to be something of a fairy tale. 

Goro looked human, and to any person who didn’t take a long look into his eyes, they’d believe that he was. He had no form of identification, though. He didn’t have a security card or a membership card to anything, not even a Suica. He had nothing with his name on it aside from the contract that Akira had back in the apartment. Walking around with him outside could be dangerous. Was this why plant dolls were kept secret? Rich people bought them and just kept them locked up on their mansions?

Goro moved in front of him, and Akira blinked at the expression on his face. He looked confused again, sure, but something else was there, something tender that he hadn’t seen since that first night.

“Right,” he said slowly, “We need to get you a Suica card so you can ride the train freely. Close the parasol when we get indoors, and come with me.”

Goro nodded, his face clearing once more as he obeyed what was asked of him.

 

In Kichijoji, Goro walked close to him through the Saturday morning streets. Again, Akira debated taking his hand. Somehow, here, in this area, the small act inspired in him a different kind of fear: people could think they were a couple. And that wouldn’t do, right? Akira, over the years, had learned he had no particular preference in partners, and while he did agree that who he dated was his own business and no one else’s, he knew it wouldn’t be appropriate given the circumstances. Again, Goro looked human and sounded human, and, in some ways, he behaved as humans did though out of mimicry or otherwise, Akira wasn’t sure. Still, all of those things didn’t make Goro human. They didn’t change the fact that Goro was likely innocent to a great many things about humans. Likely. It didn’t change the fact that Goro lived on, essentially, cookies and milk.  It didn’t change the fact that Akira had quite literally purchased him, either. 

They walked into A Happy Pancake and were seated quickly. After ordering for himself and awkwardly telling the waitress that his company wanted nothing more than water, he began to rummage through the backpack he’d set on the booth seat beside him to pull out his camera.

Goro eyed it curiously, so Akira explained, “It’s a hobby of mine. The job I have now isn’t really my passion exactly, but I’m good with decision-making and numbers, so, well, I somehow ended up as the average salaryman so to speak. I lead a small team, so I end up staying late at times. This week hasn’t been normal. I’ll be home much earlier next week.”

Goro nodded.

“I like food photography mostly. I’ve only been accepted to a few online publishers, though. That’s why it’s more of a hobby rather than a career. It would be nice to make a living this way, but sometimes it’s just who you know . . .” he tapered off realizing he was rambling. He didn’t expect to have a full conversation with Goro, and he hadn’t purchased him with that in mind, but--

Wait, why had he purchased him?

He’d promised to take care of him and to love him, but what did that even mean? He’d gone inside that store as though he were hypnotized. The whole experience had been so dreamlike. Part of him wondered that if he went back he would even be able to find it again. Goro had smiled at him when he’d promised love, but Akira struggled with understanding the promise himself. Maybe taking care of him like this was love? Making his breakfast?

“Here you are!,” the waitress put a plate of pancakes in front of him and briefly explained to him how to dress the food. With her gone, Akira began to change the settings on his camera for the lighting. Goro watched him intently as he snapped a few shots, turning the plate, rearranging the table decorations, folding the napkin with the restaurant's logo, etc.

Just one step left.

He’d ordered the affogato special. On top of the pancakes that had been arranged horizontally was vanilla gelato, and instead of syrup or honey, he was given a tiny decanter of espresso to pour over it. He picked up the espresso with one hand, and tried taking a photo with the other, but it wouldn’t do. He could hold the camera with one hand, but he couldn’t get the shot, the angle, just right. He set the espresso down and thought a moment. He didn’t have a short enough tripod that would work. He could, potentially, use a timer. Maybe, if he--

“Help.”

“What?” Akira looked up, confused. Goro had never spoken to him, or rather, not without being spoken to first. 

The plant doll’s face was still blank, but his tone of voice was a touch shaky, “I can help.”

Akira smiled at him, taken with the offer. How enamoured was he that this tiny step made him feel like he needed to name this day a national holiday? “Thank you, Goro,” their eyes met again, and time stopped briefly before he realized he’d spaced out again, “Yeah, so, I just need you to pour, slowly but in a steady stream, the espresso here over these pancakes,” Akira gestured back and forth and pantomimed with his hands. 

Goro nodded, picked up the espresso, and waited.

Akira set the shot, adjusted the camera a final time, and nodded once, “Ok, now.”

Goro poured the espresso over the pancakes just as Akira had asked, and when it emptied, he set the tiny decanter soundlessly beside the plate. 

“Nice,” Akira went through the photos on the camera and leaned across the table to show them to him, “They came out pretty good right?”

When Goro looked up from the camera, their eyes met, and his lips spread in a tender smile, his red eyes glimmering just as they had the night they’d met. Speechless, Akira processed the beauty in slow motion. Goro put a hand to his chin and looked down at the plate, a pink rising to his cheeks that Akira had never seen so openly. Goro was allowing him to see, to look, and to treasure.

Snap.

The plant doll blinked, confused, and turned his head to look away.

The moment was gone, but Akira had captured it there in his camera. He brought up the photo and stared a moment, impressed by his own work but sure the model deserved all of the credit. 

“Goro, look.”

The doll, with his blank expression back in place, looked down at the screen and blinked.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Goro said nothing but looked at the plate of food that had been forgotten.

“Oh, right, I haven’t eaten yet.”

Akira tucked his camera back into his bag, took a sip of water, and began to cut into the espresso soaked fluffy pancakes into a few smaller pieces. It only took one bite for him to notice that Goro was watching him intently. He had yet to eat a meal like this with him thus far. They’d had breakfast together the past several days, and at night, they’d eaten separately. It felt awkward that he was eating and that Goro wasn’t.

“Are you hungry?”

Goro shook his head, leaning back in the chair with his eyes still on the pancakes.

“Would you like a biscuit?”

Goro shook his head again, more dismissive this time, “No.”

“You want the pancake?”

Goro’s red eyes left the plate and met Akira’s. 

“You can’t eat this though. Won’t it make you sick?”

Goro shrugged.

Akira considered his options. Goro could eat a small bite and be fine, and maybe, that meant that the whole ‘only drink this and eat that’ lecture the shop keeper had given him was a scam. Goro could eat a small bite and become ill. Akira would have to get him a taxi all the way back to the shop that he may or may not find because with plant dolls and fairy tales who knew? Or, Goro could eat a small, tiny bite and be satisfied for having tried it at all, and nothing would happen. 

Nothing. 

Maybe.

“You helped me earlier,” Akira began reasoning aloud, “I didn’t even ask you to, or _tell_ you to, rather. It made me really happy.”

Goro tilted his head only slightly, his eyes more gentle.

“I don’t want to risk you getting sick, but . . . “

Goro straightened, leaning in slightly, transfixed.

“A tiny bite couldn’t hurt, right? Just one, small bite?”

He cut his own bite in half and then in half again, leaving a fourth of what he’d normally eat on the fork. Blushing, he lifted the fork up to feed the doll, and, as though he’d been trained to do so, Goro closed his eyes and opened his mouth waiting for Akira to feed him.

Knowing that if they didn’t look like a couple before, they most certainly did now, Akira fed him the tiny piece of the pancake.

He felt his face go hot when he realized that not only had he just fed Goro, but they’d also just exchanged their first indirect kiss. 

Goro swallowed the food with a brilliant smile that made Akira reconsider that he had any worries at all. If it made Goro this happy, it couldn't have been that bad.

Maybe Akira was just overthinking all of this.

Maybe.


	5. plant II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //another chapter because work was, well, . . . another chapter!

 

“If you see something you like, tell me, ok?”

They were in the shopping arcade in Kichijoji. In favor of his wallet, Akira started them there before they’d move out to the boutiques in the streets leading up to Inokashira Park. Goro kept his eyes wide on the stores as they passed, and Akira kept his eyes on Goro. After the pancake, he’d remained careful to observe Goro as time went on, but Goro didn’t seem affected by it; he didn’t act any differently or seem ill in any way.

Had the shopkeeper been lying? 

They’d nearly reached the end of the shopping arcade when Akira noticed a store catering to women that had a wide variety of umbrellas on display. It could help.

“Hey, Goro, let’s get a, uh, another parasol.”

Goro’s eyes met his, and he lifted the collapsed one he’d been carrying with a curious look.

“Yeah, I know you have one, but it’s a little . . . bright. Maybe we can pick one that’s a bit less . . .” Akira struggled with a tactful descriptor.

The edges of Goro’s lips tugged upwards and he turned his head once more to effectively hide his smile.

“Hey, why do you always do that?” Akira, smiling himself, walked around him. He genuinely felt like he was being teased though he was still unsure if a plant doll was even able to do so.

With his free hand going to his mouth to cover his expression, Goro turned in the opposite direction.

“You’re literally hiding from me?” he accused with a pout, “Let me see.” He reached for Goro’s wrist to pull his hand away, but he didn’t have to do so. Goro’s hand fell away immediately, and his expression fell as he faced Akira directly. Akira stared back, recognizing immediately what he’d done. Goro’s smile had vanished instantly. 

He hadn’t meant to order him. He’d only been, well, he shouldn’t have been, but if he were being honest then-- flirting. He’d only been flirting. He’d recognized instantly how easy it was to take advantage of the plant doll, of Goro, but he was still making these kinds of mistakes?

“Sorry . . . “ he walked to the shop entryway and began shoveling through the collapsible umbrellas.

“Eh, what a cute parasol!” a young, squealy retail worker appeared from inside and pointed to Goro’s parasol. “Let me see it!”

Akira was rendered invisible beside Goro, but that was fine; if anything, it gave him the opportunity to see how others interacted with him and vice-versa. He watched Goro wordlessly hand the parasol to her. 

“Ah, really, I can open it, really?” she practically bounced.

Goro didn’t respond to her question or her enthusiasm, but she opened it anyway and began to gush about the ribbons and bows that adorned it. 

Goro nodded to her, and she, sensing that something was off finally, closed it up and handed it back to him.

“Can I help you find anything today, sir? You can feel free to take a look around.”

Goro looked at Akira pointedly, and she finally noticed him.

“Oh, you’re looking for an umbrella, sir?” she sounded suddenly more composed as she approached him, but it was for the best. He truly wanted to be on with their shopping as it nearing lunch time and they’d made no progress at all.

“I need something that blocks UV rays that’s a bit more . . . plain.” He finally settled on his adjective of choice.

“Of course!” she proceeded to show him his options, and he picked out three or four to show Goro. 

The shop attendant left them alone to address a new customer.

“Do you like any of these?” 

Goro pointed to three.

“Shall I open them for you?”

Goro nodded. Akira noticed then that he’d stopped verbally responding despite Akira asking him to do so the night before. That was okay. He was more concerned with him being comfortable than being . . . vocal. It wasn’t as if it was difficult to understand him when he didn’t speak. 

One thing at a time.

Goro ended up choosing one that was tall and wide, certainly the biggest one, but it was far less gaudy, so Akira made the purchase with great relief. When they walked out of the shopping arcade, Goro opened the black umbrella that was wide enough for nearly two people. The inside of it had a simple, thin pinstripe design in purple and the handle was faux leather bound to remain comfortable and slip-proof in any weather. Akira appreciated the practicality of it, but when Goro held it over both of them, he realized that Goro had picked it for just this reason.

“Oh, I don’t need it, Goro, but thank you,” he smiled at him, feeling warm from both the kindness and the implications.

If Goro was disappointed in any way, he didn’t show it.

“Let’s find some clothes for you, okay? Since you didn’t see anything in the shopping arcade, how about I show you a few shops I like, and you can see if you like anything there?”

Goro nodded.

“But really, if you see something you like, tell me.”

“Yes,” he replied softly.

They continued through the streets and Akira snapped a few photos along the way. It was when he was admiring a bit of graffiti on the side of a wall on a side street that he realized Goro was no longer walking patiently behind him. He turned around, alarmed, “Goro?” He was completely alone.

He walked back out onto the main street, “Goro?”

_ ‘Let me see it! _ ’

Anyone could tell Goro what to do, and he’d obey, wouldn’t he?

‘ _ Look at this! _ ’, or ‘ _ Come in here. _ ’, or ‘ _ Get in the car. _ ’ He could be abducted in an instant without ever putting up a fight! He could-

“Kurusu!” The plant doll waved from a shop further up the street, his large umbrella in one hand as he motioned for him to join him.

Akira released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and sucked in air desperately to slow his anxious heart. He’d nearly gone into a panic and it’d been merely a few minutes. Was he cut out for this sort of thing? Could he even maintain a plant doll?

“I like this,” Goro said, pointing to a handmade plate set on a table in front of him. The plate was an intricate design of a dog, a shiba it looked like, curled into a round shape with closed eyes like it was sleeping. The ceramic piece was shaped and outlined by the dog, so even though it still very clearly was meant to be used as a plate, it looked more like a flattened ceramic of a cute dog.

Akira’s eyes wandered to a sign for the price. Not too bad considering how unique it was. Then, his eyes fell upon the cat. He picked it up and touched the plate with his fingertips. It was very much the same idea as the dog, but it was a solid colored cat with little patterns on its feet like it was wearing socks or something. He’d always had an affinity for cats.

Suddenly, Goro took the plate from him, placed it on top of the dog plate, picked them both up together, and pushed them in Akira’s direction. The plates hit Akira’s chest and left him momentarily stunned.

“You want both of them?” Akira blushed, “Like a matching set?” He took the plates from the doll.

“Yes,” Goro replied, face and tone unchanging even as Akira, undeniably flustered, looked up at him. 

“S-sure,” Akira replied, his blush going nowhere as he stepped inside to pay for them.

Matching dishes. 

He’d never actually done that before. None of his previous partners had lived with him, but-- Well, it didn’t matter because he and Goro weren’t partners per-se. Maybe Goro just liked cats equally. Or maybe he . . . he realized that Akira liked it and-ugh-- He was just overthinking things again.

When he came back outside, Goro held out his free hand to him. Akira stared at it a moment, his face growing warmer. 

He looked at Goro and saw the same blank expression.

Did he want to hold hands?

“The bag,” the doll prompted.

Akira handed it over to him dismissing the stupidity that washed over him. He really needed to figure out how Goro fit into his life.

He was lonely.

He’d been lonely for a long time.

What he’d seen in Goro’s eyes that night and this morning made him feel like he’d be okay. No, Goro’s smile made him feel like everything would be okay. 

Was that just what plant dolls were for, or was it because it was Goro, specifically, that had smiled at him like that? 


	6. plant III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends! Please [support this non-profit, fluffy zine](https://persona5weddingzine.bigcartel.com/)! We are so close to making goal in raising money for the [Kaleidoscope Trust](https://kaleidoscopetrust.com/)!  
> If you want to see the only pure fluff I have ever written for akeshu, it's in the digital extras, but please know that ALL of the work is fluffy! /hearts and stars

When they’d gotten to the pet shop further up the street, Goro became transfixed. Again, Akira felt himself watching him, staring as the doll observed the animals in their pins and cages. Akira watched as the plant doll crouched down in front of a large cage with a few puppies inside. His eyes were wide with wonder as if this were the first time he’d ever even seen a dog.

Wait.

  
Akira crouched down beside him, finally tearing his eyes away to watch the small pups play. “Have you seen one before?”

“Yes.”

“You must like them?” If Akira’s suspicions had been wrong, then perhaps the wonder with which Goro watched the dogs play could be attributed to something simpler.

Goro turned his head to observe Akira a moment before looking back to the dogs, but he didn’t answer verbally. Akira couldn’t wrap his head around the thought processes of the plant doll. Goro could make his own decisions. He’d wanted to try the pancake. He’d picked out the umbrella. Yet, he couldn’t admit to liking dogs? Or he didn’t understand it? Was it only curiosity?

Akira stood up to look around, and Goro slowly inched around the cage. The pet shop was just what you’d expect in Kichijoji. The cages were large and open unlike the stacked, small cages you’d see in malls and what-not. There were pillows and toys scattered across the cages and the puppies played together freely. Around the top edge of the glass were little placards with profiles of the animals. The white one was a purebred Chow named Cookie who was known for being outgoing and who liked being brushed. Akira watched Goro from the other side of the wide cage; he looked to be studying a fluffy, brown puppy that was alone in a corner. 

When neither the doll nor the dog moved for a full minute, Akira tried to strike up a conversation, “What about the brown one? What’s his name?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Oh, is there no sign for it?” he stood up and walked to the other side of the cage to see that there was, in fact, a card right in front of Goro. “Ah, Cocoa. Like chocolate? He’s a Pomeranian who is known for hiding things and he loves attention.” Why hadn’t Goro responded? The card was right in front of him. He’d looked at it, even. All he had to do was read it aloud, unless . . .

“Goro, what does this say?” He tapped Cocoa’s placard.

“Cocoa?”

He was guessing, wasn’t he? Because Akira had just read it? He pointed to another sign instead of Cocoa’s profile, “And this?”

“. . . I don’t know,” he replied slowly.

“Goro, can you read?”

“No,” he replied automatically but not without some amount of shame, his shoulders moving up and down in a small shrug while his eyes went back to the cage.

Akira instantly regretted the question, but he knew that if their roles were reversed, he wouldn’t want someone to dwell on it. So, instead of risking Goro only feel worse with his apology, he said, “Would it be okay if I taught you?”

Slowly, Goro nodded, face going blank in expression once more.

Who knew a single day out would enlighten him to so much? He’d learned thus far that Goro was mostly obedient, even with strangers, but not consistently over long periods of time. He was curious. If Akira understood the reason he’d picked the black and purple umbrella, then that meant that Goro was also quite thoughtful. He couldn’t read. If he were to get lost or something, he wouldn’t even have an ID for the police, just a train pass . . . 

Had Akira effectively purchased a plant or adopted a . . . child? Or maybe a freeloader? No, neither of those titles made sense. 

Akira sighed. Unlike anything else.

He made a mental note of what was possible for the rest of the day: clothes, books, and maybe a photo. He had a friend in Shinjuku who could make fake licenses though he hadn’t heard of him doing that in years. Maybe he could make an exception? They could meet up with him tomorrow. 

Clothing.

“Okay, let’s keep going. I’ll take you to a shop I like, and then, we can go to the park, since I did promise that. On the way back, we’ll stop at a used bookstore for study materials. At the station, there’s a photo booth we can use to snap a resume photo for you. Tomorrow we might be able to get you an ID.”

Goro merely nodded and stood up beside the cage.

“Okay, so maybe it’ll be easier for you to find something if we just start in one shop, right? The burden of choice?”

Goro tilted his head again, which Akira now accepted as a sign that he was confused.

Without thinking, Akira took the doll’s free hand and led him down the street to a shop he’d frequented. It was minimal clothing with a lot of texture based design, but above all, the clothing there was well made and would actually fit Goro properly. Akira’s clothes, the ones Goro was wearing now, were just small enough to be noticeable if one was looking.

Akira checked the time again to find that it was later than he thought. His first day off with Goro was flying by far more quickly than he expected, and he considered how he may need to change his plans for later in the evening. Perhaps tomorrow they’d have to get the books or tomorrow morning Goro could have a bath.

A bath.

Akira suddenly realized they were holding hands, and he stopped short, right in front of the shop they’d been heading for. Goro turned towards him, still not letting go.

Akira felt heat rise up in his cheeks. 

Goro’s red eyes studied him as if he were saving a mental image of his embarrassment. “Kurusu-san?” he asked just above a whisper.

“Akira,” he admonished, letting his hand go, “please just call me Akira from now on.”

“Akira,” the doll corrected quietly.

He smiled, still a little nervous, “That’s right.” He felt the shop attendant waiting to approach them, so he met the woman’s eyes and gave a nod as he led Goro inside, “So, just find something you like.” It wasn’t a test exactly, but he did want to see if Goro would actually choose anything on his own.

Inside the shop, Goro followed Akira around for nearly ten minutes until Akira finally noticed what was going on after he stopped to check his phone a moment. “You don’t like anything?” he asked, putting his phone back in his pocket. Iwai said he could come by tomorrow.

Goro shrugged.

Maybe he could simplify the process a bit? “Are there colors you like?” he asked.

Goro remained quiet, his eyes shifting left and right through space as though he were processing the question. After a near minute, he finally said, “Red?”

Akira knew why he was surprised at the response, which meant he shouldn’t have been at all, but either way, Goro’s understanding seemed to be so inconsistent at this point that he wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Great, that’s good. Let’s find you something red then.”

Deciding to speed things up further, he had the shop attendant find items for Goro as well, and in a few minutes, they had put together roughly three or four outfits for Goro to try on.

“Sir, were you ready to try on?” the attendant asked Goro directly, but, unsurprisingly, he simply looked to Akira.

“Yes, he’s ready,” he told her before turning to him, “Go ahead and try them on, and then come out and show us.” 

Goro tilted his head yet again, so Akira took his hand to pull him inside the fitting room, “It’s alright if I help him out, right?” His eyes met the shop attendant’s only briefly, and she was red in the face when she replied, but she consented regardless.

In the dressing room, Akira was relieved to see a small stool where he could sit while Goro began to undress. If Goro was already changing the moment they’d gotten in, that meant that he knew what Akira had told him to do outside. If that were the case, why hadn’t he just done it? Why was he only complying now that Akira had joined him? Akira leaned back in the corner against the wall and stared  up at the ceiling. Learning Goro wasn’t like learning someone new; it was like learning a whole new species. 

Goro had pulled Akira’s sweatpants off when Akira, knowing they’d otherwise end up on the floor, sat up again to take them.

When Goro handed them over, however, all Akira could do was stare. Completely naked save for a pair of boxers, Akira noticed strange scarring on Goro’s hips and the insides of his legs. They looked like cuts and bruises but the skin didn’t appear healed exactly. Scabbed over, maybe, but not joined or smoothed over like it might heal on a  . . . human.

Goro froze as Akira’s eyes trailed upwards. Red eyes stared back at him.

How had he not noticed the scarring before? He hadn’t seen Goro bare like this since the frist night when he’d helped him change into his pajamas, and even then, his bloomers and night shirt were much longer and covered him completely down to his knees. His eyes fell back to the strange scarring on his hips, and, without thinking, he reached out, “Goro.”

But, as if thrown, Goro backed away into the wall of the fitting room immediately causing the clothing to jostle on the hangers.

Akira withdrew his hand and covered his face.

_ ‘I’m afraid it was abused by its previous owner.’ _

Maybe he couldn’t do this. Maybe he couldn’t keep the promise he made. Maybe this adventure wasn’t one he was ready for.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I'm sorry there isn't more at this time; I fell asleep writing again. T- T~~


End file.
